Mom's The Word

She made one last check of the food sacks she’d hung in a tree. Jacob Cooper hadn’t mentioned bears in his list of things she needed to fear, but Hayley would rather be safe than sorry.

Collecting her shotgun and rifle, she retreated into the tiny trailer, where she tossed and turned for hours. One thought she couldn’t shut out: What if Jacob Cooper didn’t belong to any Triple C ranch? What if, even now, he was rounding up pals to jump her claim? Things like that happened with regularity in the books she read. Perhaps she should have stocked some contemporary novels. People didn’t jump claims in the twenty-first century, did they?

It was the newness of the situation, she tried to tell herself, not Jake’s warnings, that had her listening for every whisper of wind through the brush and turning it into a wolf attack or just a plain thief attack.

She’d tried to act brave when Cooper leveled his dire admonitions. Inside she’d been quaking. The man at the recorder’s office yesterday had already informed her that two ranchers in this vicinity had reported jaguars killing their range stock. The friend of Ben’s from whom she’d borrowed the shotgun had painted a more gruesome picture. He’d flatly stated that homeless individuals who wandered the hills would certainly kill her and make off with her pickup and trailer.

Inside, the trailer was hot as sin. At first she wasn’t willing to open either of the small windows, not even if it meant she baked in this tin can. The screens would be no deterrent, she decided, from any man or beast who chose to break in.

She lay on her back in the close confines of the small alcove and laced her hands across her belly. Talking to her baby helped calm her. “This is our only chance to make a go of things, Junior,” she murmured. “Francesca warned me I’d kill us both hauling rocks or blasting ore out of the ground. Hard work never hurt a pregnant woman,” she said, more loudly than she intended. “Gramps said my grandmother took care of my mom, planted and maintained a garden, kept house and helped him haul copper out of his first mine.”

Sweat beaded Hayley’s brow and trickled between her breasts. Breasts that had grown increasingly tender in the past two weeks. She drew up her nightgown and fanned her legs. “It’s not the hard work I mind.” Her biggest worry was determining the best time to leave here so Dr. Gerrard could deliver her baby. And would she have found anything worthwhile on this claim?

Hayley couldn’t answer those questions. She did know that if she didn’t manage to get some rest, she could forgo working tomorrow. Heavens, she ought to be able to stand a little heat tonight. Things would look better in the morning. They always did.

Ten minutes past midnight Hayley gave up suffering and opted for the possibility of a cooling breeze over the threat of death. Soon after she opened the windows, she felt such relief at the breath of fresh air that she began to cry. Unable to stem the flow of tears, she ended up crying herself to sleep.

LIGHT FILTERING in the window woke Hayley before 5:00 a.m. At first it seemed she’d barely gotten to sleep, and she tried to burrow under the pillow. Almost as fast it struck her that she’d successfully spent the first full night in her new home. Not one bad thing had happened. She derived an immense satisfaction from that. Greeting the day seemed far more desirable than lolling about in a hot trailer.

She showered in the cramped hollow carved in rock behind the waterfall. Refreshed, she hummed “Carrying Your Love with Me,” a once-popular George Strait tune, as she started a fire and put on water for tea. She ate a bowl of berries and cottage cheese while she waited for the water to boil. In this heat the ice in her cooler would soon be history. “I can’t be driving into town too often.” She spoke matter-of-factly to her unborn child. “Fresh fruit and veggies are not going to be very plentiful after what I have in my cooler spoils. Maybe some farmer around Arivaca will sell me a milk cow and a few laying hens next time I go to town for supplies. I don’t have a lot of the thousand dollars left after laying in prospecting tools and stuff. But if the price is right, junior, it’ll be worth the money.”

She patted her stomach. “Dr. Gerrard said in a few months I can have an ultrasound done at the hospital to show how far along you are. It might also tell us if you’re Junior or Juniorette.” Hayley chuckled, but soon her laughter faded. “I’m not sure I want to know. Life needs some nice surprises.” For the first time since learning of her condition, Hayley wondered if Joe would care that he’d left her pregnant. Probably not, but he deserved to know he’d fathered a child. If the law found him, she’d tell him.

Pouring herself a second cup of tea, Hayley firmly rejected further thoughts of Joe and set out to wander the low-lying hills beyond the waterfall. What she hoped to find was a stream that might indicate Gramps had been panning for gold. Swishing water around in a sieve would be much easier on her than blasting rock and hauling heavy ore down from a mountain.

Instead of flattening out into a valley that would support a stream, the terrain beyond the spring grew hillier. There were signs in numerous places that her grandfather had used his rock hammer to split rocks. Since some pieces were missing, Hayley surmised he’d taken sections to assay.

At the top of the second rise, she turned in a tight circle and surveyed the area all the way to her campsite. What had her grandfather expected to find?

Sighing, she hopped from rock to rock and picked her way back to the trailer. This would be a beautiful place to build a home. The trees were green, the water sweet and the sky so blue it hurt her eyes. But Hayley was no stranger to the laws governing mining claims. A miner could throw up a tent or move in a motorhome, but any attempt to erect a permanent structure on land open to claims was illegal. And each year the rules got stickier.

At her camp again, Hayley hauled out a couple of her grandfather’s mineralogy books, plus the copies she’d made of his yearly filing papers. Each year he’d listed a different mineral. None were valuable. Mica, pyrite and chalcopyrite, all names for fool’s gold. He’d once reported streaks of copper. Not a big deal. The area around this site was rife with small deposits of copper.

“Gramps was nobody’s fool,” Hayley muttered, pouring herself more tea. He knew that if a person wanted to preserve a claim until he made a big find, it was best to feed the county recorder unimportant facts. His last report included quartz and chalcedony. Totally negative geological findings.

Hayley settled into a chair with her tea, the books and a small journal she’d found in the strongbox. Her grandfather had never been much for writing. In fact, Hayley doubted he’d gone past sixth grade in school. Yet he’d painstakingly cataloged everything he’d found when he worked this claim. She noticed his last entry differed from the report he’d given the county recorder.

Was that significant? Hayley sipped her herb tea and stared into space. He’d written coordinates, and in a shaky hand penned in hydrous silicon oxide. Hayley wasn’t familiar with the term. Did his unsteady writing mean he was excited, or was it simply a sign that he was growing older?

His death was sudden and unexpected. Hayley, as well as others, assumed he’d recover from his nagging bout of pneumonia. Would he have told her about this spot if he’d had more warning? Hayley liked to think he would’ve taken her into his confidence. However, the old man really detested Joe, so maybe he wouldn’t have breathed a word, after all.

The thought saddened her, but Hayley could only be glad Ben had kept his counsel. Otherwise Joe and Cindy would have converted the truck and trailer to cash and sold this claim to the highest bidder. Probably to Jacob Cooper, if he’d been telling the truth.

To keep from sliding into gloom, Hayley set Ben’s mineral books on a low camp stool and opened the first to page one. She might not know what hydrous silicon oxide was, but she had a lot of spare time to find out. If need be, she could drive into Tucson to the library. Although Tombstone was closer, everyone there knew her. The first time any local prospectors suspected she was on to anything, this place would be overrun with scavengers.

The thought had no more than entered her mind when a horse and rider and a black-and-white dog exploded from the trees between Hayley and her trailer. She tried but failed to scramble from the chair. She spilled tea everywhere. Her heart tripped over itself. Darn, she’d meant to keep one of the firearms with her at all times. She’d already forgotten and had left both guns in a closet in the trailer.

Before she could panic or even take a levelheaded look at her situation, a familiar voice rang out. “Don’t go for your shotgun until you see what I’ve brought you.” A gunnysack dropped into Hayley’s lap, and the fright it gave her slammed her heart up into her throat. The bay gelding she’d only seen in twilight kicked sandy soil all over her fire ring as he danced in front of her. The dog, at least, seemed civilized. He ran up and licked her hand.

“Well, open it. It won’t bite,” said the man who’d introduced himself yesterday as Jacob Cooper. Hayley finally caught her breath, although she continued to eye him warily as he dismounted.

Her hands tugged at the string holding the sack closed even as she noted the changes between this man and the stranger from last night. Still dressed in the working clothes of a cowboy, yesterday’s saddle bum now wore a clean shirt and jeans. His hat, instead of the battered Stetson was the summer straw variety, and it was as clean as his newly shaven face. The engaging smile he wore exposed a dimple in one cheek and a cleft in his chin.

Jake dropped on his haunches next to her chair. With a quick flip of his wrist, he spilled the sack’s contents into Hayley’s hands. Four vine-ripened tomatoes, an ear of fresh corn and two thick slices of ham. “It’s home-cured,” he said of the ham. “My brother, Dillon, has a smokehouse. Smoking ham, bacon and turkey is kind of a hobby for him.”

Hayley met the twinkle in the man’s gray eyes with a look she knew must reflect her incredulity.

“I know there’s a thank-you on the tip of your tongue,” Jake said, rising and barely holding back a grin. “It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.”

“I do thank you,” she finally managed. “It’s just…it’s more like…you took me by surprise. You don’t even know me!” she blurted. “Why bring me food?”

Jake removed his hat and slapped it a few times against his right knee. “No one ever asks why. Neighbors out here share, that’s all. Now you’re supposed to reciprocate.”

This time Hayley clasped the sack to her breasts protectively. She flattened herself tight to the back of the lawn chair.

“Coffee,” Jake said softly. “In exchange, you offer me a cup of java. It’s a dusty ride over here. I could use something to wet my whistle before I go hunting for strays.”

“Oh, coffee. I’ll make some. Goodness, where are my manners?” Hayley babbled. Nimbler than before, she untangled herself from the chair and swept up the pot. “I, uh, have coffee grounds in the trailer. I’ll go put the things you brought in my cooler and grab a clean mug for you, as well.”

“Sure would appreciate it,” he drawled. Watching her hurry away, Jake thought she had to be one of the most naturally pretty females in all three of the surrounding counties. Thick corkscrew curls hung past her shoulders, indicating she probably wore braids. Her eyes were huge and expressive. They were more blue than lavender today. She had a generous mouth and even white teeth. Her skin was possibly her best feature. Bronzed a light gold, to Jake it appeared flawless. At least the part he could see. Dang, he’d barely met the woman. He shouldn’t be wanting to see more of her skin.

Ha, tell that to a certain part of him!

To keep her from seeing how unsteady his hands were, Jake looped Mojave’s reins around a scrub bush and tucked his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. No, he decided quickly. That was a bad move.

He snapped his fingers at his dog. When Charcoal dropped panting at his feet, Jake returned his hat to his head and knelt to pet him.

That was the position Hayley found him in when she returned, not only with the coffee grounds and promised mug, but with the shotgun she’d brandished last night.

“Whoa!” Jake tipped his hat to a rakish angle, then held up both hands.

“This isn’t for you,” she said with a laugh. “But when you rode in, I realized it was pretty stupid of me to be out here alone and unprotected.” She leaned the big gun against a boulder and bent to measure coffee grounds.

The seat of her denims pulled snugly over a gently rounded backside. Jake’s mouth went dust-dry. For a moment he forgot any objections he had to her walking around with a loaded gun. He swallowed a few times before he could speak again. “So, you haven’t had enough of your own company yet?”

Hayley poured his mug full, even though the coffee wasn’t much more than colored water at this point.

Jake blew on the liquid to cool it as he waited for her answer.

“I’m planning to stay until December,” Hayley said forthrightly.

“December?” Jake scowled. “We’re sitting on high desert here.”

“Yes.” Her tone held an unspoken So?

“I don’t think you want to camp out when the snow flies.”

“Flurries, right? Nothing major. Tombstone and Sierra Vista get a bit of snow. Generally it melts by noon.”

“We get more than flurries. If snow happens to fall on the heels of a monsoon, it gives new meaning to the great Southwet.”

“Why are you trying to run me off this claim, Mr. Cooper?”

“I thought we settled last night that you’d call me Jake.”

“Either way, I’m not leaving.” She gestured with her own mug, clamped firmly in her left hand.

That was when Jake noticed the white band of skin on her finger—the perfect width for a wedding ring, obviously recently removed. It drew him up short to think of her having been married to some faceless man. He let his face match his mood and he frowned again.

Stubborn as she was, no wonder some poor bastard took a powder.

He’d scarcely had the uncharitable thought when he remembered his mother’s words, and they kicked in. His mom could be plenty stubborn herself. As could Eden. Both women lived in this valley spring, summer, fall and winter. They made daily trips from the ranch into Tubac, where they shared a shop in the arty community on what had once been the site of Arizona’s first mission. The roads in and out weren’t great, but their husbands didn’t expect them to stop working because of a little bad weather. Jake knew he had no business questioning any of Hayley’s decisions.

“Bringing me a few supplies does not give you the right to stick your nose in my business,” she said.

Jake was jolted back to the present in the middle of her tart little speech. “You’re absolutely correct.” He rose to his feet in one rolling motion. “Thanks for the coffee, although it’s a mite weak.” Moving aside the books spread across a small square table, he set down the nearly full mug. His eyes scanned the pages she’d propped open with a fair-size rock. The chapter was titled: “How to Know Your Minerals and Rocks.” Any doubts as to her true intentions were dispelled by her choice of reading material.

“What exactly do you think you’re going to find, hacking around through the rocks and brush, Ms. Ryan?”

“It’s Mrs. Ryan.”

“Mrs.?” Jake hadn’t expected that comeback and it threw him. He recognized that his reaction was equal parts shock and disappointment.

“Yes. Mrs. Joe Ryan.” Hayley bit her lip hard and felt guilty for lying. But technically her divorce wouldn’t be final for six months. By then, she’d better have uncovered whatever secrets this land held. Meanwhile, claiming to be married might discourage Jacob Cooper from making any more uninvited visits.

But as she saw him climb back on the big gelding, a pang of regret gripped her chest. These past few minutes had been quite pleasant.

Really, though, she’d be foolish to trust him. Since Joe’s subterfuge, Hayley had been reluctant to trust any man. She certainly ought to know better than to let one as overtly charming as Jake Cooper get under her skin. She’d landed in this fix because she’d tumbled head over bootstraps for one beguiling frog she’d mistaken for a prince. She didn’t plan to let that happen again.

Shading her eyes, Hayley gazed solemnly at Jake Cooper.

“I’ve got work to do,” he muttered. “Can’t stay here socializing all day.”

“I didn’t invite you here in the first place,” she snapped. When guilt stabbed again, Hayley dropped her arm and leaned down to pat his dog. “Take care, old fella,” she crooned. “Tell your master I’ll enjoy my dinner of ham, tomatoes and fresh corn.”

Jake glanced down at the straight-arrow part in her hair, and despite himself he smiled. She tried so hard to act tough. Something told Jake she was a lot softer inside. But two could play her go-between game.

“Charcoal, you tell the lady to bury her scraps deep. We’d hate to have her blood spilled by some marauding cougar or one of those Mexican jaguars sighted around here last fall. Honest,” he said. “Oh, and tell her to keep an eye out for rattlers. They come out to warm themselves on the rocks by the spring.”

That last bit of information stiffened Hayley’s spine. “Ick. I hate snakes. I suppose you’re telling the truth?” Her hesitancy indicated she hoped he was lying.

“Scout’s honor. Ben collected a whole box of fair-size rattles over the years. Promise me you’ll take care.”

Hayley didn’t know why she should promise him anything. But the concern in his deep voice melted her resistance. “Same goes for you,” she offered in a whisper. “I mean, you take care around those steers. I noticed you have a scar running along the top of your cheek. Last man I saw with something similar said he’d tangled with a longhorn.”

Jake brushed his thumb over the old wound. He tended to forget about it until he went to shave. “This was a present from the last rodeo bull I climbed aboard. My dad said at least the animal knocked some sense into me. And my brother claimed I finally realized a pretty face meant more to me than a trunkful of gold buckles.”

Hayley enjoyed the verbal peek at his family. She envied his close relationship with his dad and his brother. But she couldn’t allow herself to feel such things, to be anything but resolutely self-sufficient. Swiveling, she grabbed both mugs and hurried to the spring where she knelt to swish the cups.

Jake willed her to look his way again. When it became clear she didn’t intend to and that their visit was at an end, he whistled Charcoal to heel and galloped off through the trees. Hard as it was, he resisted taking a last survey of Hayley Ryan.

CHAPTER THREE

HAYLEY WANTED TO CALL Jacob Cooper back. He, his horse and dog had brought some warmth to her day. She felt a sharp loss when they disappeared from sight. Though she’d never had a lot of close friends, in Tombstone she’d at least interacted with people. Every day she went to the post office, the market and the mine. She’d always thrived on the company of others, preferring it to the solitary life she knew too well. Maybe trying to work this site by herself wasn’t such a good idea after all.

What choice did she have? Hayley trudged back to the trailer with the newly washed mugs, thinking it wasn’t like Joe had left her any alternative. Here it was mid-July. Christmas wasn’t all that far off. By then, she’d have the company she craved. A child. Her child. The thought of holding her baby made Hayley smile.

As she returned to the fireside and picked up her book, she gave herself a good talking-to. She hadn’t come to her grandfather’s claim to socialize. She’d come to wrest out a living for herself and for her unborn child. She didn’t need the distraction of a good-looking, soft-voiced cowpuncher. In her limited experience, men who made nice were after more than a cup of coffee. Jacob Cooper wanted something. It was a cinch he wasn’t bowled over by her great beauty or stunning personality.

The notion that he might find her attractive made her laugh. She looked positively scruffy and she’d acted downright surly. If someone had taken a shot at her, she wouldn’t be inclined to go back, let alone bring gifts. Not only that, Joe had made it abundantly clear in his note that she had nothing to offer a man—except her grandfather’s mine.

So, yes. Jake Cooper had an agenda. He wanted free access to the spring. He’d said his family had plans to buy this chunk of land and all the acreage that adjoined it, if and when her grandfather relinquished his claim.

Well…maybe Cooper had a water agreement with Gramps, and maybe he didn’t.

Hayley shook off the uncharitable thoughts that kept crowding in. Jake Cooper had made an effort to be friendly. She needed the fresh produce he’d brought. She needed milk and eggs, too. Why hadn’t she asked him if he knew of anyone who might sell her a milk cow or a couple of laying hens? Instead of getting so touchy, she should have made inquiries of her own.

JAKE RETREATED to the top of a rise that overlooked Hayley Ryan’s camp. Dismounting, he tied Mojave to a scrub oak and flung himself flat behind a slab of granite. Charcoal whined as Jake peeled off his gloves and trained a pair of binoculars on the Ryan woman.

“It’s okay, boy,” Jake murmured. “We’ll hunt strays in a little while. For now, find a shady spot and rest your bones.”

The dog flipped his ears to and fro, then stretched out under a tree. Eventually he settled his nose on his front paws, never taking his eyes off Jake.

Jake wasn’t sure what he’d expected Hayley to do once he’d gone. He felt a vague disappointment when she returned to her chair and stuck her nose in one of the books she had piled beside her.

“Crazy woman,” he growled. “Acts like she’s at a resort, instead of smack-dab in the middle of the wilderness.” He watched her read for the better part of an hour. Suddenly she glanced up and straight at his hiding place. Jake found himself yanking off his white hat, lest she spot him and get it into her head to take another shot. This time with her rifle.

Common sense told him he was too well hidden to be seen by the naked eye. Her naked eye. And brother, what eyes they were. So dark a blue they were almost purple. Still staring through his powerful binoculars, Jake all but drooled on the bandanna around his neck. He didn’t relax until she returned her interest to the book.

That didn’t last. She soon tossed it aside, stood and shaded her eyes, staring hard in his direction. She turned slowly as if searching the hills for something in particular. Or someone.

Jake realized the sun had shifted and was probably reflecting off the lenses of his binoculars. “Crap.” He dropped the glasses and scooted back on his belly until he was safely into the trees. “Why don’t I just send up a flare and announce I’m snooping?” he muttered disgustedly.

Lifting his head, Charcoal barked.

“Shh.” Jake raised a hand. “Sound carries down these ravines, boy. And we don’t want the lady to know the Triple C plans to keep her under surveillance for a while.”

The dog cocked his head, gazing at Jake intelligently before slithering to his side.

Grinning, Jake rubbed a hand between the dog’s ears. “I know. You think I’ve taken leave of my senses. Which is precisely what Dillon will say if I don’t hightail it out of here.”

Dillon was expecting him to report the total number of strays between the ranch and Hell’s Gate, where they were to meet. He’d been at the number-five line shack all week, moving half the herd into summer pastures. Jake was due to connect with him at three o’clock to exchange head counts and…Jake winced. The produce he’d left with Hayley had been meant to replenish his brother’s dwindling supplies. Dillon would have a fit when he learned Jacob had given away the food Eden had fixed for him.